Well Wishes
by mew-tsubaki
Summary: Oneshot, slash. John needs to say goodbye to his family since he'll be out of the country for a while. There's something else he has to tell them, too, Howard thinks. *Set before the Guild's arrival in Yokohama; sequel to "Payday."


**Well Wishes**

A Bungou Stray Dogs oneshot

by mew-tsubaki

Note: The _Bungou Stray Dogs_ characters belong to Asagiri Kafuka-sensei, not to me. More Steincraft. Enjoy. B3 Read, review, and enjoy! * **Note** : This follows "Payday," so you might enjoy this more if you read that first.

\- ^-^3

Howard found him outside, a reddish knapsack on his back made from simple cloth—cotton, perhaps, maybe spare fabric from handmade clothes at home—and he walked brusquely towards him. He was always falling into step with John, which he didn't really mind since he liked John's can-do leader aura, though he could do without John's insistent speed. "John," he called out, hoping to get the younger man's attention.

The blond skidded to a halt, and, as was wont to happen whenever Howard followed too closely, Howard crashed right into him. Neither man fell, but John's hat popped off his head and dropped to the ground. He bent to pick it up quickly and smack the dust off the object, and he turned to Howard only when the hat was back on his head, right where it belonged. "Lovecraft," he said, straightening the hat's lip over his eyes. He looked up at his partner with that vibrant blue gaze. "Hey. Did you need something?"

"Fitzgerald has called everyone to a meeting. I went to your quarters to fetch you and saw you weren't there, so I went searching…" As his words trailed off, Howard's brain caught up with the few syllables John had just used, such as his surname. He clenched his jaw. Hadn't he made it clear to John two weeks ago, by using _his_ first name and daring to touch him more, that he liked the other man? Howard briefly replayed in his head the scene in the hallway. He was certain he'd confessed, and it had gone well, with John even telling him to do as he pleased. No, it wasn't reciprocation, but it was something, wasn't it?

John sighed and rolled his shoulders, bringing Howard's attention back to him. "Yeah, sorry about that… I hate staying in one of the mansion's spare rooms. Anyway, he told me first thing this morning that we're leaving for Yokohama, Japan. So, I packed some things and am on my way home now."

Howard frowned and furrowed his brow. "You're leaving the Guild?"

John laughed and patted his partner's right shoulder heartily. "No! No, Lovecraft, of course not. I'm visiting my family since I don't know when we'll be back. It's just a quick visit. I'll spend the night and then I'll be back tomorrow evening to help with any last-minute preparations before we head out the day after for Japan."

The frown didn't leave Howard's face, and he stared sullenly at the blond. Since confessing to John, Howard had taken more opportunities to be around the charming man, eating more often with him, going to his room to chat when Howard had a hard time falling asleep, and enjoying the quiet proximity John allowed for when Howard joined him on the lawn of Fitzgerald's mansion and the two men relaxed together, Howard hunched in the shade of the large oak and John stretched out lazily beside him on the grass, soaking up the sun. John was always within arm's reach during those times, even though Howard had lost his courage to reach out since placing his hand on John's back two weeks ago. But now—now he wouldn't even be within arm's reach.

John's bright smile softened, and his eyes crinkled as he stared up at Howard. He sighed, but Howard didn't get the sense that John was exasperated with him—not the way John groaned when Hawthorne and Mitchell bickered outside of meetings. "Well…I suppose I can fill you in on Fitzgerald's plan on the way there."

Howard cocked his head to the left, but a tiny spark of hope flared to life in him.

"Why don't you join me? My family's been curious about my new job, and, though I have no intentions of telling them exactly what it is we do, I don't think it could hurt to meet a colleague." To emphasize his resolve, he stepped to the side and gestured with his free arm. "What do you say?"

Well, of course there was only one answer.

\- ^-^3

John wasn't fond of cars. Rather, he liked them, he explained to Howard, but he didn't enjoying riding in them. "They're far too unreliable," he finished after telling Howard the story of how his family's old, green pick-up truck had died right when they'd needed it most a couple of years ago.

Howard didn't mind them, however, and he liked that Fitzgerald had ordered a car to take John partway back home. The whole time, the two ability users sat in the back, nothing but the middle seat between them. Still, Howard was a large man fitted in a small vehicle, so his right leg kept sliding over into John's legroom. John said nothing about it, and he even took a bit of solace from it, too, by leaning his knee against Howard's after the car hit a series of sizable potholes in the road. When the number of bumps grew to be too many, John asked the driver to stop and let them off to the side.

"I hope you don't mind walking the rest of the way," the blond said to his compatriot as the car turned around and pulled away.

"I don't," Howard lied. He was a fair-skinned man dressed nearly head-to-toe in black, walking under the Californian sun. But he didn't point that out to John—nor did he cite how John's complexion had regained its rosy hue and no longer looked positively puce now that they had the ground under their feet once again.

The walk from the drop-off point to the Steinbeck family home was…long, to say the least. Howard surmised they walked for over a mile—maybe even two—but he said nothing of his discomfort.

John was aware of his constitution, though, and he tried smiling at Howard to cheer him up. He also tried conversing with him but gave up when Howard returned with nothing save for hoarse grunts. At last, he settled on whistling to distract them.

John had a nice voice, Howard decided. A musical voice, comforting, calming. The whistling was too piercing to have a lullaby effect, but it was something to focus on, and it kept Howard's mind busy, trying to place the tune, so it was a surprise when the house came into view.

It was bigger than he expected, off-white with two levels and a large shed outside that looked as though it was supposed to be used as a garage. The house stood on a large plot of land, and some crops began on the property a few yards away from the backside of the house. Far off in the distance, Howard could discern the silhouettes of at least two other homes, so the Steinbecks weren't isolated. Most of all, Howard was relieved to discover the place wasn't ramshackle—not because he'd been invited over but because of the impression John had given him from the start when the blond had begun opening up to him about his personal life towards the beginning of their partnership. John always fretted over financial matters because he was supporting his family, so…well, Howard had been steeling himself for an altogether _very_ different picture.

One thing he'd assumed correctly, however. Two children were running in the front yard, and the boy tagged the girl when a bird taking off distracted her for the briefest of moments. They were both blond with short hair and rosy cheeks, and the girl was incredibly fast when she caught up to the boy and tagged him back, her summer dress clearly no obstacle for her. But she seemed easily distracted, for she forgot about the boy as soon as she spotted John. She shrieked his name in delight, and the boy with her began yelling his name, as well. They both started running towards the ability users, but the girl motioned for the boy to run to the house, and they still screamed John's name either way.

The girl crashed into John's midsection once he and Howard were close enough. John grabbed hold of her and swung her lightly around, spinning her more than actually picking her up off the ground. When they settled back down, she reached up and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him down to plant a kiss on his cheek, and John seemed quite happy with that. Howard hadn't seen him smile like that before.

"Let me introduce you," John said, looking between the other two.

"Not yet!" the girl insisted, and she yanked on John's arm until he stumbled along behind her.

He glanced at Howard over his shoulder with an apologetic look, but Howard shook his head. He didn't mind at all.

Up at the front door, the boy had returned, and an older girl followed behind him. She appeared to be a little younger than John but shared his and the children's blond hair and blue eyes, though hers were soft and muted like muddy waters. In addition, she was quite obviously in a family way. Her maternal glow showed through when she smiled warmly. "John…welcome home."

John walked right up to her and enveloped her in a gentle but big hug. He pecked her cheek and reached for the boy, tousling his hair despite the boy's attempts to wave him off. Then John turned to Howard once more. "Lovecraft, this is part of my family. My sister, Rosasharn," he explained, hugging the pregnant girl a second time, "and the rascals Ruthie and Winfield." He pointed in turn to the other girl and the boy.

"Rascals" was the right word for the younger two. They gave off an impish air which John had described well in the stories he'd told Howard bit by bit the past few months, and both of them openly stared at Howard, so he stared right back. Winfield flinched after eleven seconds, but Ruthie held his gaze for almost twenty. Then she laughed—a girlish echo of John's chuckle—and beamed up at him.

"Ruthie, don't be rude," Rosasharn scolded her younger sister, but she gave John a look. He cleared his throat and introduced Howard.

"This is H. P. Lovecraft. I, uh, work with him."

Howard quirked an eyebrow at him, wondering what had caught in John's throat to make him stutter, but John looked away, suddenly very interested in heading inside.

Rosasharn gave her older brother another look, but she smiled again at Howard. "Please, Mr. Lovecraft, come in. There's always room at the Steinbeck home for one more," she said, waving her younger siblings inside. And, inside, the din only grew.

There were at least a dozen other bodies roaming the Steinbeck household, some of whom Howard didn't believe to be blood relations. At the very least, John's parents introduced themselves, though Howard felt unsettled calling them "Ma" and "Pa." Nevertheless, that was what nearly everyone called them, so he followed suit.

Howard let John do much of the social navigating once all the greetings had been exchanged and introductions made. The dark-haired man didn't mind and even enjoyed it a tad, for it gave him the chance to focus on John in this new setting. John was always friendly and polite amongst the other Guild members…but, seeing him here with family and friends, completely at ease, Howard was reminded of John's magnetism which had pulled him along shortly after Fitzgerald had put them together as a team. And again Howard was glad he had confessed, even if John showed no signs of wanting to return his feelings.

Unfortunately, while Howard's attention was on John, Ruthie's and Winfield's were on him. He tried ignoring them as politely as he could for as long as he could, but then there was a lull in the adults' conversation, and Ruthie and Winfield spoke up.

"John? Can we play kickball with Mr. Lovecraft?" Ruthie practically bounced on her heels.

"John, we want you to play with us! Mr. Lovecraft, too!" Winfield sniffled, making Howard wonder if most children went through a runny-nose stage.

Rosasharn and Ma shook their heads. "You just washed up to help with supper," Ma scolded Ruthie.

"But—" Ruthie protested. Winfield already had hold of Howard and was dragging him out much the same way Ruthie had dragged John in earlier.

John smiled guiltily at his mother and sisters. "Ma, let her play. I'll come back in after a few minutes and help you and Rosasharn finish up, promise."

The short, stout woman stood there with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face, but her mask cracked when John smiled. Ah. So the family also wasn't immune to his smiles. "Fine. Off with the lot of you!" she huffed, motioning them to scurry outside.

Howard and John had left Fitzgerald's mansion early in the day, and now the sun was low in the sky, primed to set. Yet Ruthie and Winfield had the energy of baby birds first waking up in the morning, and they tried expending that energy to teach Howard how to play their game. But, frankly, that required stamina which the gaunt man definitely lacked.

"Guys, guys—why don't I play with you for a bit and Lovecraft watches? He can get the hang of it that way." John raised his eyebrows at them until they conceded, and then he turned to Howard. He glanced between the taller man and the front stoop, and he nodded that it was okay for Howard to sit there.

"I'm fine," Howard told him. But he sat since John insisted, and John leaned against the doorjamb while he talked with the older man.

"I'll tire them out, so they won't bother you any more before dinner." John stuffed his hands in his pockets and peeked down at Howard. "Honestly…I'm a little surprised they took to you."

"Oh?"

"It's just…"

Howard cocked his head to the side, waiting for John to say it. He was aware that his presence could be off-putting; he'd been told many times to his face, quite rudely at that. But John had never said anything of the sort, even though Howard had read it on his face several times before. "I'm unusual," the dark man offered, and John shrugged in agreement, though he frowned.

"I'll tell them while they're distracted by the game," the blond man said, changing the subject. When Howard furrowed his brow, he elaborated, "I told the others I'd be going away. Those two weren't listening earlier, but kids tend to let things go in one ear and out the other, so I think it'll be fine."

And yet…Howard didn't believe that. Well, it was more along the lines of him not believing John trusted his own words. There was something about the hard set of his jaw that appeared doubtful, and Howard was working up the courage to ask about it when Winfield interrupted the moment and yelled at John to join him and Ruthie. For good measure, Ruthie added that Howard watch so he could play with them next time. And Howard did…

…but his eyes followed John the entire time, trying to decipher what it was that John wasn't saying.

\- ^-^3

Ruthie and Winfield were thoroughly exhausted after half an hour, and, after the troublesome twosome and John cleaned themselves up, everyone enjoyed dinner. The dining room turned out to be the largest room in the house, and it still fascinated Howard that they could all fit in there without crashing into one another.

Dinner was more sumptuous than Howard considered it could be, but he didn't eat much past a first serving. John's family found that odd, but John explained that it was just Howard's small stomach…which was a complete lie since Howard ate the most of any of the Guild members, but Howard was grateful John didn't blurt out that it had more to do with Howard often making a meal out of dessert and then some.

Howard melted into the background as the others cleaned things away after the meal and prepped for bed, but it wasn't until it was time for lights out that John realized the issue with his spur-of-the-moment decision earlier in the day.

"Oh… I should've told you to grab whatever overnight things you needed before we left," the blond said, chuckling at himself while Howard sat on the edge of the brothers' shared bed, Winfield wiggling on top of the covers and yawning without covering his mouth.

"How come Mr. Lovecraft doesn't have pajamas with him?" the child asked, and he yawned again as John pulled the blanket from underneath Winfield to tuck him in.

"Go to sleep, Win," John murmured.

As if a switch had been flipped, the kid was out like a light.

John grinned at that and glanced at Howard, his laugh clearly stifled by that smile. "Sorry about the sleeping arrangements. I know I can't exactly have you share our room, but the house isn't as big on the inside as it looks on the outside, not with everyone home." He paused and eyed Howard, who'd shed his cloak and tie.

"Is something the matter?"

The blond's eyes snapped back up to his partner's. "Oh, uh, no. I just—are you sure I can't loan you something? My father's a larger man than I; he or my uncle might have a spare nightgown." He said that, but he hadn't changed out of his outdoor clothes either, except to remove his hat.

"It's all right. I'm comfortable as is." Howard jolted then. "…although I _do_ find it odd that he could be tired enough to latch on to me," the dark man added, observing how Winfield had latched on to his arm in his sleep. Howard tried slipping his arm out, but the child held on.

"It's not just that." John sat on the other edge of the bed and reached for his brother. Somehow he knew just which fingers to pry so that Winfield loosed his partner. After he had the younger Steinbeck tucked in once more, he continued, "He and Ruthie like you. I think the rest of my family does, too."

Howard had the urge to ask more about them, but he closed his mouth when John shook his head.

John got up, peeked out the window, and then motioned for Howard to follow him. He followed Howard out of the bedroom, turning the light off before closing the door, and then the two of them crept quietly downstairs and outside. They didn't wake the others, as all the other doors had been closed for the night, and most had no light showing beneath them. John tugged the front door shut behind them, too, but he squinted in the sudden brightness of the moonlight. "We can go in there," he said, pointing to the garage, and he hustled there without comment from the other man.

Once inside, John didn't turn on any lights, but he left the door open so the moonlight could light their way. "Do you often come out here when you're home?" Howard asked. John watched the Moon, but Howard watched John.

"Nah. But I guess I've gotten used to talking to you at night to help me sleep, and it wasn't really a good idea to do our usual thing right after I got Winfield to sleep."

That was surprising. Here Howard thought _he'd_ been the one who'd needed help sleeping; it turned out it was a two-way street. "Glad to be of help," he mumbled at last.

But John heard him and smiled easily. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and shivered slightly, since the night had sapped the area of all the warmth which the Californian sun had provided during the day. "Well, it's hard for me to sleep in the mansion, I told you that. The place is lavish, sure, and I don't want to have to crash in a hut or a freight train's car ever again, but it's too much. There are too many rooms and you have to walk so far just to speak to someone on the same floor." His eyes drifted back to the house. "I like the closeness of home. I never feel lonely here."

Howard frowned, and his shoulders sagged. "I suppose I can see your perspective, regarding Fitzgerald's estate…"

"Oh, no! I mean, it's better there now," John hurried to correct him, holding his hands up worriedly. He paused and reached out to put a reassuring hand on Howard's shoulder. "So…thank you."

Howard felt a possible smile rising to the surface, but he missed the chance to share it with John when John's hand slipped from his shoulder, and the blond crossed his arms again. His jaw clenched the same way it had earlier in the night. "There's something else," Howard guessed aloud.

John's eyes flickered to him; they looked ice blue in the moonlight. "…yeah," the younger man admitted. He released a low, slow breath. "When I told Ma and Pa and Rosasharn I'd be away for business, Ma got real anxious, and Pa asked where we were going. I said it was just across the Pacific, that I wouldn't be halfway around the world, but…" He shook his head and grimaced. "Rosasharn asked for how long, and I told her that they'd be fine and taken care of, that they'll have what they need." He peeked at Howard again. "Fitzgerald promised me that much, and I know I can count on him when it comes to my family's needs."

"Why didn't you tell them how long?"

"Because! We don't know. That's one thing Fitzgerald plays close to his chest. So I don't know how long it'll be before we're back." Even in the dim light, Howard could see him pale, though the look in his eyes was hard. "… _if_ we'll be back."

Howard took a step towards him, still frowning but not feeling like the pessimistic one in their duo for once. He sighed, and John looked up at him. "You should've reassured them you'll return. You have to come back," he insisted, "with a family like this waiting for you." And he meant it. Of course they were going to return from Japan.

John's eyes widened, but he smiled gently at Howard instead of gaping at him. "You really do like them, don't you?"

"I do."

"…me, too?"

The abrupt reference to Howard's feelings made the taller man flustered, but he answered him nevertheless. "I thought I said as much before."

The blond nodded. "Then, do me a favor."

"Within my ability."

John locked eyes with him, blue on black, all the seriousness he could muster in this one gaze. "You _make sure_ I come back to them, whatever happens in Yokohama. And I'll make sure you come back with me."

It was said without hesitation. Howard was reminded of the pleasant feeling he'd had weeks ago when John had told him to do as he pleased, and he wanted to comment on this moment in comparison to then. But his fluster worsened when John reached for his nearest hand, entwining their fingers and taking strength from Howard's skin against his, the dark cloud over John disappearing visibly as they stood there in the shadow of the garage opening, linked.

\- ^-^3

Howard begrudgingly awoke in the morning when he felt something soft on his forehead—a kiss? But that was doubtful when he woke up to see the matching grins on the faces of the Steinbeck brothers right in front of him. The same blond locks, the same blue eyes, the same extra-wide smiles—though, upon closer inspection, Howard could see that Winfield had freckles smattered across his nose which John lacked, and John's hair was by far the curliest of all the Steinbecks. Either way, the scene was adorable, even by Howard's tastes.

Winfield scrambled out of bed when Ruthie announced she'd be the first in the bathroom, and the ability users watched the scene unfold outside the room. John turned back to Howard, though, still smiling. "'Morning," he said, laughter in his voice.

That smile got Howard out of bed. "This…is much earlier than I'm used to…"

"It's called farm time," John told him, but he patiently waited for Howard to collect himself before they joined everyone to eat.

Breakfast was leisurely where dinner had been a free-for-all. Howard's appetite had arrived for it, too, because Ma's pancakes more resembled the confections the gaunt man loved so much. He had seconds and restrained himself from asking for thirds, though somehow John's leftovers found their way to his plate when Ruthie seized his attention to tell him about all the games they'd play when he and John returned.

As people began to finish, John took that opportunity to clear his throat as he pushed his chair back and stood. "All right, everyone. We have to get going."

Howard was just as surprised as the others, though they raised their complaints to John while Howard remained seated. John deflected their questions with little success, but eventually they let him grab his and Howard's things and go only once he'd had the life squeezed out of him with every hug, arm squeeze, and handshake offered to him.

Outside, Howard kept his eyes half forward to the road, half to John as the blond walked backwards, continuing to wave to his family for several minutes until the ability users were far away enough to render the action pointless. Then John faced front, still as happy as he'd been at the start of the morning.

Howard gave him a look. "We don't have to be back until this evening. You didn't have to leave them early," he scolded his partner morosely.

But John insisted otherwise with a vigorous shake of his head. "The earlier we leave…the earlier we can come home, Howard." He edged over closer to the other man and leaned against his partner's arm as they walked, and Howard could sense his relief through the contact.

Howard didn't shy away, nor did he deny John when the shorter man joined their hands for the second time. Instead, he mused that he knew for certain now that maybe he really could read John better than he once thought.

He glanced over his shoulder as the Steinbeck house faded from sight.

He knew, too, that he would do his damnedest to keep this family together—the Steinbecks…and the two of them, too.

\- ^-^3

 **Well, as I often end up saying…that was longer than expected. XD But still! They're just too cute…and that got angsty real fast, *lol*. At first, this was just supposed to be a visit home and Lovecraft's introduction to John's family, but then John had to go and fret about the future. D: At least the boy's accepted Lovecraft's presence in his life. The only thing I feel sad about, though, is not having the chance for Lovecraft to realize why the family, especially Ruthie and Winfield, likes Lovecraft, but John has a clue:** _ **They like how Lovecraft looks at John**_ **. -w- AHHH. *haz all the mushy feels* :3 Anywho! I was just pulling the Guild pre-Moby Dick base arrangements from nowhere, but now I kind of like to imagine Fitzgerald using his mansion (maybe one of many? Can't imagine him wanting his wife near the Guild's activities) as a former base, located in California, not too far from where his plans are headed…a place for him to keep an eye on his team, who can be a handful at times. But yeah. Long live the Steincraft~!**

 **Thanks for reading, and please review! BSD needs more love…!**

 **-mew-tsubaki :D**


End file.
